


Don't Touch

by cndyprfumegirl



Series: You Are My Home [3]
Category: Demet Ozdemir, Dogdugun Ev Kaderindir, Ibrahim Celikkol, Turkish Dizi - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cndyprfumegirl/pseuds/cndyprfumegirl
Relationships: Zeynep Goksu & Mehdi Karaca
Series: You Are My Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670797
Kudos: 1





	Don't Touch

"Don't touch me! Don't dare to ever touch me!" Zeynep yells.

My fingertips barely touch her hand before I draw my hand back, and I swallow everything in me that is yearning to comfort her. I know my touch will only anger her, and she's had enough for tonight.

"Leave. I want to be alone," she says, her expression is hard, the sweetness and vulnerability I was drawn to is gone. But the fire in her earns my respect; she's not a typical girl.

"I won't ever touch you again. Don't worry," I say, and I get up and leave her alone. As soon as I close the door, I hear a sob escape her and I wince. I wish I could spare her the pain she's feeling. She has so much pain inside her; I understand it, even without knowing all the reasons behind it. I wish she would share it with me so I could help her bear it.

I leave the house, needing to get away from the watchful eyes of everyone who lives there. They will smother me with their good intentions, and I don't have the patience for it. My feet are on autopilot, navigating my neighborhood without any conscious thought.

As I walk, my mind is fully occupied with my new wife. I see Zeynep's face in my mind's eye; she looks shattered and lost. I should have given her an out when she said she couldn't go through with the wedding, but the truth is I want to be married to her and what I did was selfish. I saw the haunted look in her eyes; her unwillingness to go forward with the wedding was written clearly on her face. I could have let her go; I could have taken the heat from our mothers and let her go, but I didn't. She fascinates me and I want to keep her in my life, even though she's made it clear she's not the kind of woman who will be kept. She is being pulled in every direction by people who claim to love her. They use guilt to force her to do what they want her to do. When I questioned her refusal to marry me, I became one of those people. I will never do that to her again. I make that promise to myself and to her. May God forgive me. May Zeynep forgive me.

About an hour later, I find myself back in front of my house, and I go in. The house is dark and quiet, and I hope enough time has passed and Zeynep is asleep. I have no intention of forcing her to share a bed with me, but I really have no choice but to sleep in the room with her--for my sake and for hers.

I enter our room, and I see her asleep in the chair, still in her wedding dress. I walk over to her and look down at her. She's so stubborn, and I can't help but admire her for it. But I can't leave her in the chair all night. I break my promise not to touch her and I pick her up in my arms and carry her to bed.

She feels surprisingly light, her weight more comforting than burdensome. Her head falls toward my chest and she is so beautiful my breath catches. Will she ever trust me? Could she ever love me?

I lay her down in my bed, cradling her head in my hand until she is settled in the softness of the pillow. My hand hovers near her face; I want to touch her, but I slowly take my hand from her silky hair and resist the desire. I leave her fully dressed--I even leave her veil on. When she wakes up, I don't want her to think I took advantage. I remove her shoes, though, and set them on the floor next to the bed. I want her to sleep comfortably. I pull the covers up to her chin and tuck her in tight.

Her face is soft and relaxed in sleep. She looks so young, her features so delicate--her appearance belies her strength. Her strength amazes me, and I allow myself a small smile as I look at her now peaceful expression. Even when she was afraid of the violence she saw in me, even though she didn't know whether I would hurt her or not, she stepped in front of me to stop me. She stood up to her mother, my sister, my mother...to me. She is courageous. She doesn't give respect for the sake of being respectful. She shows no shame in shunning traditional expectations; she makes sure everyone knows she will not be the obedient bride. I have never met anyone like her.

She has challenged me from the first time I met her, and she continues to challenge me. She has touched me in a way I never expected to be touched. I swear I will keep her safe from anyone who tries to harm her--and especially from me.

I switch off the light and I get ready for bed in the dark. From this day forward, she comes before me, and I will live my life trying to show her that not everyone who loves her wants something in return.


End file.
